


With Extra Chocolate Chips

by RabbitRunnah



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Bitty's sad, Fluff, Future Fic, Jack's supportive, M/M, There are cookies, that's the fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-28 22:08:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20433242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RabbitRunnah/pseuds/RabbitRunnah
Summary: Jack can't fix everything, but he can make cookies.





	With Extra Chocolate Chips

**Author's Note:**

> I always feel weird posting such short fics here, but I also have a tendency to lose track of fics posted only to Tumblr, whether it's somebody else's fic or even my own. So this is me trying to be better about organizing my stuff.
> 
> Loosely inspired by my own job search.

“Hey, Bits? I’m home.” Jack closed the door behind him and toed off his shoes, listening for sounds of life in the kitchen. It was Friday afternoon, and they had plans to go out with the SMH crew, so odds were excellent Bitty was in the kitchen making something to take back to Haus 2.0 for dessert.

He didn’t hear Bitty’s music playing in the kitchen though, and he didn’t hear the shower running in the bathroom. Bitty’s car had been parked in its spot in the parking garage so he couldn’t have gone far. Maybe he’d gone for a run? “Bitty?” he called again.

A rattly exhale drew Jack’s attention to a blue and yellow Bitty-sized lump on the couch. The lump — or Bitty — wore one of Jack’s old hoodies and a pair of baggy sweatpants that might also have been Jack’s. He looked ridiculous. It drew a smile from Jack, until he remembered they were supposed to leave the house within the hour. Bitty shouldn’t be huddled on the couch in two-sizes-too-big sweats, he should be getting ready.

“Everything okay, bud? I thought we were going out with everyone tonight.”

“I’m not —“ Bitty hugged the couch pillow to him. “Do you mind if we cancel?”

“Noooo,” Jack said cautiously, wondering exactly what was going on. Truth be told, he preferred nights in when he was in town and didn’t have to be at a game or event. Seeing their friends regularly was important to Jack, but it was Bitty who really enjoyed going out. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I thought maybe we could just stay in tonight,” Bitty said, sounding on the verge of tears.

It wasn’t really an answer but the break in Bitty’s voice set off alarm bells in Jack’s head. “We’ll cancel,” Jack agreed, settling down next to Bitty, “but first you’re going to tell me why you’re so upset.”

“I just don’t think I can fake it through another dinner with our friends,” Bitty said as Jack began to rub small circles on his back. “I just … I feel terrible, but I’m so jealous of all of y’all. I already know we’ll spend the first hour talking about how your season is going, and then Ransom and Holster will tell stories about their office, and Shitty will spend another hour venting about school, and Lardo will drop hints and make us guess which guest artist the gallery is preparing to host because she can’t actually tell us. And then they’ll all wanna know how my job search is coming along and all I have is two dozen rejections.” Bitty huffed out a sigh at the mere effort of having to explain this. “I just don’t feel like dealing with all of that tonight. Today sucked. That bakery got back to me.”

“Bad news?” Jack guessed.

Bitty nodded. “They hired somebody else. I have a Samwell degree and thousands of YouTube subscribers to my _baking channel_ and I can’t even get a part time job at a bakery.”

Jack knew it was pointless to argue or try to reason with Bitty when he really just needed to vent. It wouldn’t do any good to remind Bitty that he had just finished a very successful run as SMH captain, or that he’d gotten a lot of positive feedback from potential employers even if those interviews hadn’t led to jobs.

Also, Bitty wasn’t wrong. Their group dinners did tend to unfold exactly the way Bitty had described. Their friends were supportive, but Jack thought they were far enough removed from graduation that they’d forgotten what it was like to be in Bitty’s shoes. That, and the fact that they kind of all assumed Bitty had it made, living with his rich professional athlete boyfriend.

“Have you given any more thought to setting up a booth at the farmers market?” Jack asked carefully, knowing he had to tread lightly with this topic.

The money Bitty had earned from selling his jam and pies to Jack’s teammates had paid for his last semester’s books. With a little effort, and a spot at the farmers market, he could make double that in one Sunday. Jack had offered to front him the money for the booth rental, but so far Bitty had refused.

“I’m not gonna take your money,” Bitty grumped. “I know you’re trying to fix this, and I love you for it, but this is something I need to do myself.”

Jack supposed he couldn’t fault Bitty for feeling the way he did. After his overdose, his father and his hockey uncles had offered to smooth things over with the league so he could play. He’d opted to take the harder route to the NHL, through Samwell. It was something he’d needed to do on his own, just to prove to himself he could.

“I know you want to do it by yourself, but the offer stands. It’s not going to make a difference in my finances one way or the other.”

Judging by the way Bitty went rigid beside him, that was the wrong thing to say. Bitty took another rattly breath. “I just worry that you’re eventually going to get tired of this. You work so hard, and all I do is take up space.”

“_Crisse_, Bits,” Jack said, trying not to let his frustration creep into his voice. “You know it’s not like that. We’re a team. Someday I’ll be retired and you’ll be supporting me with your Food Network millions.”

Bitty snorted. “You have a lot of faith in somebody who just got a ‘thanks but no thanks’ from the Stop & Shop bakery.”

“You don’t want to work in a bakery where people can also buy condoms and cheese in a can.”

“Yeah, well …” Bitty sighed. “I’m sure someday I’ll laugh about not even being good enough for a grocery store bakery, but right now it just feels really bad.”

“I know, bud.” Jack pulled Bitty closer and let him go boneless against him. “What would make you feel better right now? I'm telling everyone we can't make dinner.” Jack pulled out his phone, ready to send a message to the group chat as soon as Bitty gave the go ahead.

“You don’t have to stay home on account of me, sweetheart. It’s been months since we’ve all hung out. I don’t mind staying here by myself.”

“And it’s been months since we’ve had a quiet night in. They’ll understand.” Jack began typing and sent the message before Bitty could protest. “What do you want to do?”

“I just … I think I just want to watch _Queer Eye_ and eat cookies,” Bitty said in a small voice.

“Then we’ll watch _Queer Eye_ and eat cookies,” Jack agreed. “Do we have cookies?”

Bitty shook his head sadly. “I was too sad to bake.”

Oh boy. This was more dire than Jack had thought. A Bitty too sad to bake was a sad Bitty indeed.

“We can make some.”

“With extra chocolate chips?” Bitty looked hopeful.

Jack preferred peanut butter or oatmeal raisin, but this was not the time to argue. “One batch of _extra_ chocolate chip cookies, coming up,” he said as he rose from the couch. Without Jack to support his weight, Bitty went limp. “Come on,” he said, offering a hand and hauling Bitty up. “I’ll bake but you need to keep me company.”

“Will you use the —”

“Really good chocolate chips? On it. Wait, are you going to make me carry you?”

“I’m _sad_, Jack.”

“Right,” Jack said, easily lifting Bitty and tossing him over his shoulder. “You were saying?”

“They’re in the back of the pantry, behind the regular chocolate chips.”

Jack snorted. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were hiding them, Bittle.”

“You’re a menace!” Bitty yelped, sounding like himself for the first time since Jack walked in. He squirmed out of Jack’s grip and, in a surprisingly well executed dismount, managed to right himself before hitting the kitchen floor. “Seriously, just tell me the next time you eat them instead of leaving the empty bag in the cupboard. I thought I was done living in a frat house.”

“Done living in a frat house, maybe, but not done living with me. You thought it was Ransom and Holster stealing the good chocolate chips all those years?”

“I had my suspicions,” Bitty muttered darkly. “Just didn’t confirm them ’til I moved in here.”

They fell into comfortable silence as Jack took ingredients and mixing bowls from the cupboards and began measuring the dry ingredients. Most baking sessions — especially those initiated by Bitty — involved pop music and dancing and a little or a lot of Bitty’s running commentary, depending on if he was talking to Jack or the camera. Without all that, Jack was hyperaware of all the normal kitchen noises he’d never taken the time to appreciate — the cracking of egg shells against the side of the Pyrex mixing bowl, the metallic clink of measuring spoons against each other. Years ago, it might have made him uneasy to be alone with Bitty in a silent kitchen, but now it made him feel settled and safe.

The phone in Jack’s pocket buzzed twice as he whisked together the eggs, vanilla, and sugars. “Shitty says no problem, they’ll see us next month,” Bitty said, reading the group text on his own phone. “And Lardo sent the eggplant emoji.”

Jack chuckled. “You’re okay with our friends thinking we blew them off to have sex?”

“Better’n telling them we blew them off to make depression cookies and watch TV.”

“Either way, I think they’d understand. You gonna help me get these ready to go?”

“Only if you stop sneaking handfuls of those chocolate chips.”

Jack flicked a chocolate chip in Bitty’s direction and was rewarded, finally, with a genuine smile. “Let’s get these in the oven, eh?”

Later, as they settled down on the couch with still-warm cookies, Jack threw an arm around Bitty and drew him close. “I love you. Happy, sad, with or without chocolate chips.”

“Are the chocolate chips supposed to be a metaphor for a job?”

“Ha ha. Not really. I just really like those chocolate chips.”

Bitty sighed, a happier sounding sigh than before, and rested his head on Jack’s shoulder. “I love you too, Sweetpea.”


End file.
